


Muddy Waters

by spacebeans



Series: Muddy Waters [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Accidental biting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, But only a bit, Enemies, Ex Lovers, M/M, Shakespeare, Supernatural Beings, Vampire Bucky Barnes, Vampires, Werewolf Steve Rogers, alternative universe, apparently i got a thing for peole lying in puddles in alleys, as I like to call him, based on a prompt, but not really, cursing, he's just very dramatic, or Bill, sonnet 147, werewolfs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-27 22:58:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21126656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebeans/pseuds/spacebeans
Summary: Bucky is having a regular night, lying in dirty puddles, getting staked, meeting his hot ex-hrm arch nemesis. You know how those nights go, right?Based on a prompt:"Why won't you let me die?""You owe me money.""I've never taken money from you in my life!""Here's $5. Now you owe me money and you're not allowed to die."





	1. Rainy Day

**Author's Note:**

> Bad Ideas Happen At NIght. Also Use YOur Motivation To Do Things While It Lasts. (By Fall Out Boy)

So far, Bucky has had a terrible night. First his local blood bar was closed for renovation, then his bike ran out of gas, forcing him to walk (like a peasant!) the few miles to next one when it started raining like crazy. Hoping to find some shelter from the disgusting and cold autumn night he entered the next best pub, for a second thinking he might get lucky after all as he eyed up the hot brunette who immediately lead him out the back door for a, as he hoped, quick makeout (and snack) session, only for the brunette to turn out to be a vampire hunter who not only tried to stab him with a wooden stake, but also stole his last piece of chewing gum. So now there he was, lying face up in a nasty puddle of rainwater and who-knows-what-else, thinking is night couldn’t possibly get any worse, when the stench of wet dog entered his nose and a looming figure his vision.

“What are you doing down there?” The unmistakable voice of the biggest pain in the ass in all of Brooklyn resounded from the narrow alley walls. Steve Fucking Rogers, Bucky’s arch nemesis.

“Have you come to laugh at me as well?” Maybe that came out sulkier than he had intended. Great. Steve only laughed. Of course he fucking would.

“Need any help down there?”

“No, I am, in fact quite comfortable, thank you very much. Might just stay here forever, slowly bleeding out in this puddle. Oh, how the world will weep in sorrow when I am gone, but alas,it is too late for me…” To underline the tragedy of the situation, Bucky threw his hand over his face and sighed heavily.

“Oh, get off your perky ass. You have barely a scratch, there’s no way that’s gonna kill you.” Even though Bucky couldn’t see Steve’s expression in the dark he just  _ knew _ he was rolling his eyes at him.

Slightly raising his head out of the grime it had rested in he fixed Steve with a glare that perhaps wasn’t as intimidating as planned, given his current situation. “Was there anything you want? I’m kind of busy here and my night was going very well before you decided to ruin it.” That was a lie. Not that Steve had to know that. Instead of dignifying this with an answer, Steve started to crouch down and pull out the (very wonky) wannabe stake still stuck in Bucky’s chest.

“Why won’t you let me  _ die _ ?”

“You owe me money.”

“I’ve never taken money from you in my life!”

Steve reached into his back pocket and pulled out a crumpled bill. “Here’s $5. Now you owe me money and you’re not allowed to die.” For a second Bucky stared at the $5 note in his hand, perplexed, then he threw the bill back at Steve’s face, rolled out of his puddle faster than the human eye would have caught, and started to brush the dirt off his clothes. A lost cause, really.

“Funny how you suddenly seem to care about my life”, he muttered under his breath, now facing away from the other man. “It feels like it was only yesterday that you tried to kill me with your own bare hands.”

“Well but that was different! And you know damn well you're the one who started this stupid thing in the first place-” a balled up soda can hitting his head interrupted him at once. 

“Did not!”

“Did so!” Steve’s eyes flashed a bright yellow at that and his teeth appeared sharper in the dim light.

“You can’t scare me with those, wolfie. Go back to your dog bed and play with your bones. Now would you excuse me? I have grown up business to attend to. Like taxes. And working on my aesthetic.”

“You don’t even know how to do taxes, you dumb… Vampire!” They stared at each other in silence, unsure how to proceed from there. On one hand Bucky really wanted to get out of his soggy clothes and into a hot shower, on the other hand seeing Steve again had brought up the same 3 arguments they had been fighting over for the past 137 years. #1: should Bucky cut his hair? #2: Who was the most tragic (and in Bucky’s opinion, therefore best) hero and #3: Who had caused their break up 137 years ago (“Who the hell proposes to a werewolf with a silver ring?!”)

After all, his desire to clean up won over his need to yell at Steve some more, so he flicked him off, adding a “Fuck you, Rogers” for theatrics, before whooshing away in a cloud of black smoke. He still caught the “You wish, Barnes!” his ex lover yelled after him, now blue eyes burning in the darkness. And he did. Eternity is very long after all if you spend it alone. What a night.


	2. Dirt Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the year1608 when Bucky first meets Steve Rogers.
> 
> featuring Shakespeares 147th Sonnet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sonnet 147 has always been my favourite. Just irgnore everything that's inaccurate about history, lore or poetry. 
> 
> My love is as a fever, longing still  
For that which longer nurseth the disease,  
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,  
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.  
My reason, the physician to my love,  
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,  
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve  
Desire is death, which physic did except.  
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,  
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;  
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,  
At random from the truth vainly express'd;  
For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,  
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
> 
> thank you for reading :)

While in the shower Bucky let his thoughts wander and bring him back to all the times he and Steve had faced off in the past. The last couple of years had been relatively quiet with only 3 or 4 sightings of the wolf in his territory, and none of those encounters had ended as he would have hoped. Their last meeting had been in an alley similar to this night’s but with the small difference that back then Steve had been the one covered in blood.

Tilting his face under the shower head Bucky tried to let the burning hot water wash away all of those painful memories, yet all it did was bring him back to their very first encounter when he was freshly turned.

The year was 1608 and he had been traveling England. This rainy and untouched country fascinated him for some reason. He often liked to abandon his traveling companions to wander around aimlessly at night, exploring the green hills and lonely streets. They were on their way to London in search of a certain poet whom Bucky, back mostly referred to as James - a name given to him by his Donour- had started to fancy for a long time now. 

On one of those starry nights it happened that he got more or less lost in the greenery, the full moon shining above him. Normally this wouldn’t have been cause for worry, but his last meal had been a while back and to add to his situation a wolf started howling not too far away from Bucky’s current spot. Turning back to where he thought he came from Bucky started to hurry along the dirt road. Although the howling didn’t seem to come any closer, it steadily followed him on his way back to their small camp.

They kept on traveling towards the metropole undisturbed how ever Bucky couldn’t shake the feeling that the howling followed them every step of the way they went.

Before long they reached the city and it’s most famous poet. Bill, call me Bill, the man told Bucky, and oh, how he wanted to do that. Many a night they spend together, Bill fascinated with everything Bucky had to tell him of his home country, Romania. If he noticed anything off with Bucky, he didn’t tell, at least not in the regular way. On some nights BUcky just watched him work away at his desk, sometimes with a desperate urge to finish what the king had ordered, other times with a reamy expression on his features.

It was one of those nights when he first read the Sonnet.

“What are you working on, my love?” Bucky had always been carefree with his words, never worrying too much who might hear them.

“It’s for you, Beniamin.” Bucky eyed him with a funny expression. “How do you know that name?” Bill hummed while scribbling on his piece of parchment. “You talk in your sleep, my dear”, he said with a small grin, fully knowing that Bucky did not, in fact, sleep. 

Getting of his comfortable spot on the bed Bucky walked up behind Bill and tried to decipher what he had written so far. The Parchment was a mess with many lines crossed out and written in hectic letters. One line stood out to him. 

“...Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,

The uncertain sickly appetite to please.” Silence fell over the room. “So… you know?”

Bill laughed. “I’m no idiot, James. And frankly,” he turned around at that, a gleam in his eyes, “You’re not the first vampire I’ve had in my rooms. But tell me, do you like it? Or is it too gloomy?”

“Hm no, I like it. What’s the couplet going to be?” Bucky walked back to the bed and let himself fall down face first.

“Depends on how this ends…”

“Sounds ominous. Whatever.” With a look out the window Bucky noticed the late hour. It was almost morning. “I should head back, the sun will dawn soon. Will you survive without me for a while?” The jest in his tone was interrupted by a long yawn. The humming he got in response was all he needed to climb out of the window and jump down into the alley behind the house.

For once the rain had stopped, only to be replaced by a mild fog. This early in the morning the streets were deserted and he heard were his own soft footsteps. This time of night was his favourite, as it made him feel like the whole world laid in front of him, ready to be conquered and shaped however he intended. The smell of blood caused him to halt in his tracks abruptly. While it smelled moderately fresh, there was also a strange note to it he couldn’t quite place. Since he was still a young vampire the bloodlust took over and soon he had found the source. It came from a puddle and in the puddle laid someone, or something. It was hard to make out for him, now that the first rays of sunlights creeped out of their cloud cover. The shape did not move. So he did what any reasonable vampire would have done when presented with such an easy meal; Bucky crouched down, took one of the shape’s arms (it had arms, that much he could make out now) and bit down. Two things happened at once: firstly, Bucky spit the blood out as soon as it entered his mouth. It burned his tongue and overwhelmed his senses. Secondly the figure sat up with a shout, ripping the arm from Bucky’s hands.

“OW! Why did you do that?!” The figure exclaimed, a reproachful look in their gleaming blue eyes.

“I thought you were dead?” His reply sounded as unsure as he felt. _ I thought you were dead? _ Come on James, didn’t you learn anything in your average life span?

“So you… bit me?”

“You taste disgusting.”

“Excuse me?!” The offended tone of the man’s (?) voice amused Bucky. This whole situation felt unreal, as if it came straight out of Bill’s comedies. “I happen to know from reliable sources that my blood is delicious, thank you very much.” He glared his teeth at Bucky with that last statement, teeth that looked sharper than any human’s should.

Narrowing his eyes at the man Bucky studied him closer and then sniffed the air, a choice he regretted just as fast. “You smell like dog. And swamp. What are you, a damn wolf?”

“Ye. Steve is the name. I’ll be on my way now.” And with that he squeezed past Bucky, jumped ona barrel and up on the roofs of the nearby houses, disappearing from Bucky’s sight. The sun was almost completely past the horizon now, making its way across the sky, so Bucky hurried home as fast as he could.


	3. The Lunatick Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the night before January 1st, 1609. Songs are sung, hearts are broken and hands are hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want you to know that I put in my vampire fangs while writing this to get myself in The Right Mindset. Have fun picturing this in your head. Also, it's harder than I expected to find [17th century love songs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Olj2hZJQz_A&feature=youtu.be&autoplay=1). Whats up with that?

The weeks dragged on, leaving Bucky with an odd sensation of anticipation. The rain turned to snow and before he noticed the year had slipped away and it was the night of New Years Eve. Bill was a man who loved to celebrate cordially and this night was no exception. Bucky found himself dancing and drinking all night, laughing with strangers and snacking on Bill when no one watched. Alcohol by itself couldn’t make Bucky drunk anymore, but only a small taste of Bill’s wasted blood had him laughing even louder, stumbling slightly. Perhap it was because of this fact that he didn’t notice the newcomer who had entered the celebration sooner. Bucky only became aware of the man’s presence when his dancing partner twirled him directly into surprised arms and at once the sole point of focus for Bucky was Steve’s blushing face. He found that they were of almost the same height and built, a fact that put him slightly at ease. They stared into each other’s eyes and the following seconds felt like two beasts, ready to strike, pondering their options, to finally agree on a truce. The moment was broken by another couple bumping into them.

“Are you going to dance with me or not?” Never one to back down from a challenge, Bucky grabbed the other man’s hand and pulled him closer, moving more or less along with the crowd around them. At some point they were separated again and he couldn’t find a trace of Steve amongst the bodies. Retreating back to a calmer corner to lean against a table, Bucky was once again startled when two warm hands encircled his waist from behind. Worst. Vampire. Ever.

“Have you already tired of me, my love? Who was that handsome gent who got to share your presence for so long?” His tone wasn’t serious enough for Bucky to respond with anything else than a laugh, barely audible over the ongoing celebration around them. “Scared I could go before you have forsaken me yourself? Don’t worry your pretty head about it, he’s but a lonely wolf I found in the gutter. But enough talking, I demand to dance with you at once!” Sober Bucky would have been embarrassed by the giggle he let out as he dragged his lover back to the dance floor. The song that had played before cam to an end and some fool in the band decided to play a sad street song next. The crowd got sparse and out of it emerged Steve. As Bucky swayed to the song about a lunatic lover who had to hurry to his beloved, his eyes wandered over to the figure; Steve had a slight glow around him, warm and inviting as candle light. In his ear he heard Bill whispering along to the Singer, “I’ll court you and think you fair since love does distract my brain… I’ll go and wed the nightmare and kiss her and kiss her again…” Letting go is maybe too easy, but he does and with one last wink towards his partner Bucky stumbles back into the almost-strangers arms who now welcome him almost expectantly. The gloomy musics fades to the back of their minds, the singer now describing the lover leaving him and begging the Ghost King to take him away. This is exactly Bucky’s type of music, ominous and cryptic, yet capturing his reality. 

“Why is it that we keep meeting? At this point I feel close to believe you are following me. Not that I mind, now…” Steve hesitates before answering, nevertheless he does after a second. “And what if I am? Would it be all that wrong if I were to be fascinated by another being, so similar to myself and yet the exact opposite? That night when I first saw you in the moonlight...I just knew I had to find out more. More about this world and about myself and.. about you.”

“In the moonlight? It was close to dawn when I found you in that alley. Unless… was it you, that night in the field? And was it also you, all those nights on our way to London?” Bucky let’s out an incredulous laugh. “I must admit, you are one persistent and untiring wolf. Now that you’ve caught up to me, what do you intend to do with me?” His dirty smirk turns doesn’t uphold when faced with Steve’s flustered expression. “Forgive me, where are my manners!” Bucky pulls him into a twirl, his words hitting Steve’s flaming red ears. “I have not even introduced myself yet. They call me James.”

That night he finds himself in a new bad for the first time in months.

Bill, as dramatic as ever (one thing Bucky liked about him after all) send only the finished Sonnet as means of a message. It’s the one he started the night Steve first showed up. The ending couplet sends a small pang of regret through Bucky’s immortal heart.

“For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,

Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.”, he reads outloud to the shape curled up under his covers. A warm hands worms its way out of the protective nest and holds onto his own ice cold one.


	4. Pocahontas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the present. Bucky goes out to a bar to take his mind off the past. This turns out to be more or less successful...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title is from the Song I listened to while writing - ["Put your head on my Shoulders"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DraA3PUuoQc>Pocahontas</a>%20by%20AnnenMayKantereit%0A%0Athat%20moment%20when%20you%20realize%20youve%20been%20writing%20in%20the%20wrong%20tense%20and%20have%20to%20scrap%20everything%20.-.%0A%0AI've%20always%20imagined%20Bucky%20and%20Steve%20dancing%20to%20Paul%20Anka's%20<a%20href=), so this was pretty much just self-indulgence
> 
> Leave a comment if you know which song they dance to at the bar ;)

With a dramatic and exaggerated sigh Bucky let himself fall on the fluffy pillows of his coffin-shaped couch, one of his late day online-shopping finds. By now it’s well worn, which makes it even more comfortable in his opinion. The notes of a song filled his dark living room, muted as if coming from a far distance. His eyes drifted slowly over the room and lingered on a yellowed piece of parchment, hung up on the wall in a modest frame. The paper had stains all over it, some from ink and others smudging the words to the point where only his sharp memory allowed him to decipher what was once written, black on white.

“Fuck, stop pitying yourself so much. This stupid wolf is getting into your head again.” The words are uttered to no one but himself and with a sudden burst of action Bucky got up, leaving the safety of his cushions, and getting ready for a night out. On his way out Bucky subconsciously reached for a small artifact which lies almost hidden amongst the mess on his desk and tucked it into his deepest pocket. With his fingers playing idly with the small object, Bucky left the house.

His choice of bar usually harboured humans as well as supernaturals, and this night wasn’t any different. Squeezing his way towards the bar Bucky somehow managed to order his drink without colliding with any other patrons. Nevertheless, as soon as he held his drink in hand, his thoughts wandered back to days long past when he used to got to similar establishments with a certain someone close by his side. Frustration started to rise within him; no matter what happend, somehow he always ended up at the exact same point. Whether it was some sort of fate or not, Steve and Bucky kept coming back and dancing around each other, quite literally in many cases. Of course, one could say that in the limited world if immortals this was inevitable, but it always felt like more than a coincidence. No matter how mad they mad they drove each other, at the end of a decade or so, they always showed up again.

Silently sipping his drink Bucky thought back to another time, now more than 50 years ago. Back then, he had thought they had finally reached the end of their dispute and would stay together. In his memory Steve rested his cheek in Bucky’s shoulder, slowly swaying to Paul Anka’s voice dripping over the couples in the dance hall. For a brief moment they had both dared to believe that things between them could be good, would be good. But the moment passed and was relieved by their petty bickering once again. To be quite honest, he still wasn’t over the time Steve had admitted to pouring his cereal milk first. The thought made him shudder. (If asked, Steve would have had many things to say for himself, but alas, he was oblivious to this particular train of thought.)

Eying his drink skeptically(since when did normal alcohol give him a buzz? Must have been one of those special concoctions) Bucky abandoned his spot at the bar; the room felt even fuller now and the air was full enticing smells. Letting his nose lead the way Bucky found himself in the middle of a group of drunk people standing close to an Incubus. The incubus winked at him, but that wasn’t the kind of crowd was looking for tonight, no matter how good the Incubus smelled. 

Bodies pressed close to him from all sides and he got lost in the motion. One song blended into the next without him paying much attention. Two gleaming eyes caught his attention, causing him to pause in his movements and do a double take. No, his eyes hadn’t betrayed him. There, standing on the sidelines of the dance floor, was the figure of none other than Steve fucking Rogers, in the middle of sweet talking some prey as it seemed. The woman opposite him was too busy staring into deep blue eyes to notice the sharp teeth and realize the kind of danger she was currently in. Bucky kept watching, as always enthralled by the way his ex hunted. He made his way over to the couple without either of them noticing. “If I were you, I’d run as fast as you can.” His words, close to her ear, emphasized by a flash of his sharp fangs, were all it took to startle her from Steve’s charms and with a nervous smile she excused herself, disappearing in the crowd which swallowed her up without a trace.

“What did you do that for?!”

“She wasn’t your type anyway.” His voice matched Steve’s in levels of iciness on all levels. They glared at each other silently for intense 10 seconds. Bucky was the first to break away, shaking his head. If he didn’t care as much about his dignity, he would have banged his head on the small table between them. “What are we doing here... Not dancing, that’s for sure. Which is a shame, no, a sacrilege.”

Now Steve actually did banh his head on the table. The sight was just ridiculous. Still crouched over he raised his head, capturing Bucky’s eyes once again. It did not look very comfortable. “Beniamin.”

“Not here.”

“Bucky. We both know how this will end…”

“Then let’s enjoy this night while it last.” Bucky stole one of the drink left on the table in front of him, drowned it like a shot and pulled Steve back into the crowd, maybe using more force that necessary. Steve looked like he wanted to complain loudly, then changed his mind and closed his mouth again.

“411 years and I still don’t know what you want.” Steve pulled back at those words, confusion apparent on his face. “And here I was, thinking you knew everything - OW!” Bucky had bit his finger, leaving behind a small wound that closed as fast as it had appeared. Nevertheless, Steve started drooping ins Bucky’s arms, pretending to bleed out on the dance floor. “Oh, how you have wounded me. Is this how I will die at last? Oh woe me, for I am far too young and pretty to depart from this world….”

“Pretty my ass”, yet Bucky couldn’t help but laugh aloud at his partner’s dramatics. “Your words wound me, my beloved. Have I not praised your pretty as enough in the past? Let me remind you of my thoughts on it.” It was hard to stay serious when their squabble felt all too familiar and Steve couldn’t keep the cheeky grin off his face.

During all of this the dance floor had cleared up a bit and the music, previously loud and energized, had calmed down to softer tunes. A familiar voice drifted over their heads, singing of a lover as sweet as can be and no grave being able to hold them back to get back to her.

“I’m still mad at you for stabbing me.”

“When will you learn to let go of the past?”

Unfortunately - or luckily, depending on the point of view one chose - neither of them were good at letting go of past event, and even worse at moving on permanently. Some things were forgotten, but not forgiven. Other things were forgiven but never forgotten, that’s the way it was between them, had been for 411 years. And even though they danced along to the same three steps again and again, a destination had yet to be decided on. So they spent another night together, drawing ever closer to the third step in their centuries old routine.


End file.
